Rays on Opinion

Best New Music, B+, 8/10, 4 stars, "something special," "triumphant return"...

That's a collection of snapshots from reviews of Baroness' Purple, their first full-length since the meandering, tedious, and yawn-inducing double-album Green & Yellow some four years ago. After Baroness released Blue in 2009 and their fellow Georgians slash heroes slash main source of inspiration Mastodon released The Hunter in 2011, it became clear what direction Baroness would subsequently take.

By the way, Blue, All Music's pick for Baroness' best album, is not their best album. It's not even in the top five:

Red
First
Second
Demo
A Grey Sigh in a Flower Husk (split with Unpersons)

And, honestly, I'd be fine with putting Red below the First and Second releases. Blue is an astoundingly forgettable record. I'm not even sure what Green & Yellow was other than something to snicker about.

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Let me be honest: the sole reason I'm even writing this is because I am shocked at the positive response Purple garnered both leading up to and after its official release. At each single's release, I was left gobsmacked by what I was hearing from the once-great Savannah band and the attached pressers. I mean, I get marketing. I understand that money changed hands to have Noisey host the release of "Shock Me" and laud the laughably bad single, but there's probably no money behind Sludgelord's almost embarrassingly positive review.

Let me be honest again: I also understand that I am approaching this review in an obnoxiously biased and petty way. I disagree with the general consensus and am apparently quite desperate to broadcast that fact. The justification, though, is this album. This album chock full of gussied up butt rock. Mall rock with enough bells and whistles to sneak it into the party.

Side note: we saw Brann Dailor leaving Criminal Records having just purchased Purple on vinyl. Shouldn't everyone in Mastodon just get free Baroness albums as royalty checks?

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The album's opening track "Morningstar" is what one might politely call an homage to Mastodon. A less polite person would call it a shameless rip-off. See, when Baroness' First and Second albums sounded like Mastodon, they did so in this grimy way that seemed more like Savannah's answer to Mastodon rather than Savannah's indebtedness to Mastodon. I always found Savannah's punk/metal scene to be pretty gnarly, so when we first saw Baroness all those years ago at the Waterfront in Brunswick, their brand of crusty riffage made sense and avoided being derivative. When Baroness released Red, an album I love, they were following in the post-Leviathan proggy footsteps of Mastodon but doing so in a way that sounded unique and compelling and intensely engaging.

Now that Mastodon has released two pop records and Baroness has followed suit, the sonic connection between the two bands isn't just as obvious - it's deflating. Whereas Mastodon is writing their version of Yes songs, Baroness is just writing their versions of Mastodon's pop songs. Every song has an anthemic chorus with some prog noodling thrown in and just enough heaviness to convince everyone that it's still a metal record and not a *gulp* hard rock album.

"Shock Me," "Kerosene," "Chlorine & Wine," and "The Iron Bell" are all very much the same song with the same interchangeable cringe-worthy lyrics and hooks.

The album's last two songs, "Desperation Burns" and - oh my good god - "If I Have to Wake Up (Would You Stop the Rain?)," are Baroness' last-ditch efforts to really come up with something unique on Purple. "Desperation Burns," though, just dissolves into the same goofy nonsense as the four songs mentioned in the previous paragraph, while "If I Have to Wake Up" is the album's ballad (I guess). It's funny, because that song title would probably warm my heart if it was on the new TWIABP album or something, but on this album, it just makes my skin crawl.

Plus, this song kinda just sounds like fancy Nickelback. You can imagine John Baizley and Avril Lavigne's ex-husband switching places and it maybe not even affecting the listening experience. I mean, you'd know you were listening to the guy from Nickelback and apparently enjoying it, but at least you'd be honest about it.

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Maybe that's all I want out of the people writing these glowing reviews of Purple: just admit that you like Nickelback. Admit that if Nickelback was a little less mainstream, you'd be all in. Admit it!

Or just admit that you don't want to write a negative review of an album written by a cool band that was in a near-death bus accident. Because if every review is going to mention that the nearly fatal accident is the impetus for the band's emotional and musical acme, then maybe it's also okay admitting it's the impetus for an objectively bad album getting praised so widely. Maybe, too, it's okay if that experience led to an inescapable patch of emotions that has trapped the band in this grungy butt-rock warbling nonsense.

The art we produce when we're sad or haunted or scared isn't always good. Sometimes those emotions are delimiting, locking you into this narrow form of expression that feels increasingly necessary. Tragedy can lead to good and bad art. In Baroness' case? I'm just glad it's over.